


God be You

by Coffeepills



Series: Tis the way of all flesh [5]
Category: Saint Seiya, 聖闘士星矢: 冥王神話 | Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas
Genre: Alone is lost, By Alone, Cracks within Meikai ranks, Even gods have issues, Gen, Hades is his own case, Hades messing with Alone, Hades | Alone character tag is like perfect at this point, Hades-centric, Inner thoughts all over the place, Rating May Change, Something big is amiss, Unnamed OOC came to life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeepills/pseuds/Coffeepills
Summary: "From the eyes of a god, humans may seem hopeless. Nevertheless, they have love. Because of love, humans can become compassionate, strong too. You do not have the right to kill if you do not know love." Her words strung a cord deep down the recess of his mind. Something that was forced under a veil. All of a sudden, he did not know if he should be affronted as his face expressed, or perhaps be true to himself and chose to show the hurt her words revived. He was not supposed to care. Except he did. Except he cared so much that he could not afford to do it anymore. [Quote by Athena is taken and edited from classic SS final Hades Chapter episode]
Relationships: Hades & Alone (Saint Seiya), Hades & Cerberus (Saint Seiya), Hades & Pandora (Saint Seiya), Hypnos & Thanatos (Saint Seiya)
Series: Tis the way of all flesh [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1741276
Comments: 8
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess that would be the accompanying piece of ‘Won’t you paint me (?)’. Similarly to the rest of the Series, it can be read without any of the previous entries. However, at this point I am not entirely sure, so I apologize if you feel that prior details are missing. Also, it is supposed to be Hades-centric, although this time the focus is on Alone’s inner thoughts and perceptions. Nevertheless, I am against tagging it as an Alone POV, you will know why only if you read it ;)

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At some point in time, he remembered an old priest imparting some tale of old. He was from an abbey some undisclosed length away. Sasha and Tenma were out in town with the priest in charge of their orphanage. The priest was not particularly a memorable one, his face only a vague memory by now, save from the fact he took an interest in his early-developed drawing skills.

He was about nine years old by then, and the priest made it a point to show him some pages of his Holy Bible. Not for the texts, which made little sense for him. The drawings though, the colours, that was what he took interest in.

It had been so for the last two years, since the priest had seen his first tries at drawing. Such attempts were scarce, not because of lacking interest and disposition, but because the orphanage could not afford buying sheets of paper over food.

Perhaps it was due to seeing potential, the priest could use adding him to their ranks in the future, and keep on illustrating Holy scripts and the likes. However, it was at the occasion of one of his visits that he presented Alone with a simple set of coal, brush, a small canvas and a wooden box with six vials of paint.

To say Alone was overjoyed to the point of tears would be the understatement of the century.

That day, after the priest left on an errand, Alone promptly left for the riverbank, Sasha hot on his tail. He had one thought in mind, to _paint._

However, once by the riverbank, Sasha entertained by the flowers and unruly grass, safely within his vision scope; he was at a loss. His small fingers, which held the coal to trace on the blank canvas, were lingering a couple of inches from it, seemingly frozen. Suddenly, the scenery of the river, and everything around lacked the power to inspire him.

“Alone nii-san, draw me like before.” Came Sasha’s voice next to him. She was shorter than he was due to her age but had no problem seeing the canvas he held on his lap.

Up to this day, he had no clue on why he decided to add twin wings to little Sasha. The result of his first painting was not perfect, the paint smudged together in too many areas to give a nice rendering of Sasha’s silhouette; and the colouring came of short as well, mainly because he only had that many colours to blend.

Nevertheless, the kids at the orphanage were happy. They smiled and laughed, he later figured some of the laughing was because Sasha was looking a tad awkward in the painting. However, the overall feeling of the winged figure was pleasant to the eye.

When the priest in charge asked them what caused the ruckus, Alone showed him his first painting. His reaction, he imprinted in his mind, as he did not know the meaning of it until much later when he learned what it was, _stupefaction_.

Afterwards, he remembered the priests exchanging words. On his next visit, the old priest brought another book along his Holy Bible. That one filled with writings that held little similarity to the Holy Scriptures he sometimes had the chance to see. He noticed by the way what he knew that letters looked like; these were different, they were symbols. Unknown symbols.

Upon closer inspection though, his eyes diverted from the symbols and locked on the illustrations on the next page. The old priest said this book was different. He said it belonged to ancient times before the becoming of Christ and Christianity, long before the Roman Empire. He used a term, _pagans_.

In all honesty, being nine years old he did not grasp the concept of religion beyond the fact that the Church it belonged to had taken them in. The Church provided food to sustain their bodies, put a roof above their heads, and a bed to sleep on. The priests acted on God’s will. Therefor he was grateful to God, as abstract a concept he appeared to be.

It was of little importance. What truly mattered was the tale the priest shared with him that day. “ _When the Holy War begins Hades takes over a body so that he could be reincarnated. For his soul is in the Underworld. He uses a human when he wants to go to Earth_.”

It was only the first page of the book, the one that was not the Holy Bible. Yet it sounded _wrong_. So wrong that he felt an urge to know…to know _something_ , anything. His thoughts were confusing. 

He remembered words flooding his throat then, a question formed by a single word, then a more elaborated one.

“ _Why?_ ” A pause, as the priest finger stopped at the end of the sentence he was reading. He much later on realized he had been translating Greek. “Has anyone ever wondered _why_ he does so?”

He felt more than saw the gaze of the old priest on him. He knew it was rude to interrupt, he would most likely get punished for it. However, he could not explain what overcame him just a moment ago. 

“Child, there is no place for doubt in your heart. He does so because he is _evil incarnated_.” The words of the priest laced with something akin to melancholy; he ruffled his golden hair afterwards and resumed his tale, uninterrupted.

That day, he saw the priests exchanging words a couple of glances thrown his way. A letter passed between them. From that day on, the priest in charge took him to churches in villages nearby, to visit other churches and their art.

Soon after, he was introduced to their church workshop, where he painted long and endless hours. He did not complain, as from onwards he was as close to the holy as they could provide him with. 

It did not matter that the holy came with messages of damnation, of suffering that spanned over the ages. A god had walked among men, blessed them with salvation. He too felt saved, and could save his kin. Protect them of the unknown laying ahead.

For, in his short life he had known the warmth, the kindness. He had suffered the distrust, the hate the unknown instilled in fellow men and youngsters alike.

He had bled for it, more than once. Passed hunger and cold because of it. He did not fully grasp the why, still felt it held a meaning beyond his knowledge, as if he was supposed to embrace his fate, brave it even. There was wisdom in suffering, one he felt was a mean to _something_ bigger than him.

That day, however, was the last time he saw the old priest.

Word came he died on the road to the abbey, in the forest closest to their city. No belongings with him, except for a freshly ripped off _narcissus_ lodged in his hand.

Narcissuses were not uncommon in the area so nobody really thought better of it.

Two years later, he saved a pup from a couple of angry kids. He smelt of flowers that grew up the hill of the forest. He thought nothing of it.

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The heavy scent of narcissus permeated the air. Pandora had taken upon herself to bring freshly cut flowers and replace the ones in the vases distributed across his rooms every other day. She said these were from the grounds near the church. They were the whitest she had come by over the years, perhaps sensing the purest soul was in the vicinity whist she was on the lookout, searching for him over the land of the living. He felt like there was more to her story but refrained from asking.

“They were a sign from you, Hades-sama; the beacon to your vessel.” She said so once, twice… He knew she would keep mentioning it, so he relented and agreed. It gave her the reply she was seeking for apparently, for she never brought it up again, just changed the flowers every day now. No permission asked, none given. She took just as she gave. 

Sometimes he caught himself glancing at them, others he feathered his fingers on their petals. They withered upon his touch. He stopped doing so. Pandora never asked what happened; she just brought new ones.

Nevertheless, he thought they were a stark contrast to the lifeless roof above their heads. The forest surrounding the building grounds filtered the light, even if the windows were just as high as its walls; it did little to avoid the diming of light within the church. It increased the feeling of nothingness. This church was a fake; it parodied what was instilled in him years prior.

If he had to guess, it made sense. They had to ensure maximum impact when they first brought him here. His mind troubled, his heart heavy with guilt. He had killed. He had sinned. He was _alone_ , away from the virtuous and the holy.

The narcissus he did not recall taking in his hands seemed frozen in time, lively white just short of shinning in whites and gold as a ray of light made its way between the clouds and washed-out the room.

It was short lived, his gaze transfixed he watched as the flower, yet again, wasted away until nothing but dust remained.as of late it happened more frecuently, he chose to not linger too much on the fact.

His thoughts were interrumpted when he felt more than saw _his_ presence wrap his room before _his_ hand knocked on the door. Hypnos let himself in; he noted that the god seemed familiar in doing so. He made no impositions, yet he felt he was short of placing demands upon his shoulders. The god of Sleep held high expectations, ones he knew nought of yet yielded to meet since their first meeting.

“Hades-sama, the time has come.” The bow he became acquainted with, his right palm over his breast, hovering close to his heart. He wondered idly if it was beating. If it would still beat, should he so chose to touch it.

The twin gods, as they had introduced themselves, were his counsellors. He was safe under their protection whilst his soul awakened fully. He was their lord, the one and only ruler of the Underworld. The knowledge crashed upon his sense of self, yet it felt liberating.

Still, he felt a remnant of resentment, a mixed feeling he knew not its source. It added to his guilt.

Hypnos had told him it was time to clean himself for this _mortal_ soul, the one that lingered within this mortal body. He figured himself trapped, with no way out in sight. He yielded.

“Yes, it is high time to start. Tell Pandora to rally _our_ _army_ in.” The pleased quirk up of Hypnos’ lips minutely faltered towards the end of his command. He noticed and mentally took note. It was _his_ , not theirs.

That day, he saw the twin gods exchanging glances as he made his way to the main hall, they seemed to communicate between themselves albeit he had no way of knowing what the message was about, besides being about him. He felt it in the way their dark silver and golden eyes lingered on his form. He passed them and entered the great hall, Pandora was awaiting for him to take a seat at the throne in front of the squad that would accompany him.

He kept his face impassive, whilst she gave the orders. These men had joined his ranks, _Hades_ ’ ranks on their own volition. He had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact so he distracted his wandering mind with the pup on his lap. Kora.

No. _Cerberus_ , he inwardly chastised. Kora had been a delusion. Cerberus was real, and he did not die. Could _not die_.

Sometime after being taken in, he asked Pandora if Cerberus knew who she was, although her body was different. She had looked at him strangely, as if trying to assess something. It passed as she moved behind him, holding his golden locks softly and brushing them as she usually did nowadays.

“Yes, Hades-sama. As guardian of the gate to your kingdom, Cerberus is familiar to all of our souls, it does not matter the body it inhabits.” It was all he needed to know. The twins forbid him from revealing his real appearance, he was supposed to find him on their behalf. 

at the back of his mind a thought remained, it sounded as if it was not the plan to have to find him in the first place. The point was moot, since the dog, and the twins, came upon him anyway. Back when Tenma was still around. It felt like ages ago.

Whilst the dog’s real form was sealed to avoid detection, his mind was kept intact. Kora was Cerberus. Cerberus was the Underworld fearless dog.

Hades, and no one else, was his master. It was proof enough of he was. Who he was supposed to be. What he was _supposed_ to do.

Yet, he had barked, shown his fangs to Pandora back then. She, who stood by his side, the one that commanded an army of one hundred and eight Evil Stars.

She had confirmed Cerberus recognized her; it did little to clear his lingering doubts.

Something did not add up. He felt as if he was supposed to know _what_. Blue eyes wondered to the pup on his lap. He did not show aversion towards Pandora since that time.

The twins did not show themselves to his Specters, albeit he felt their gaze on him for a moment more, before they melted away. It took a weight off his shoulder he had not noticed bearing. Cerberus lapped his face again, and his cheek tingled. It was wet and warm, _alive_.

“Let us move to the city then. Hades-sama will signal the Underworld take upon the Earth starting today.” Her voice carried finality, the specters hailed her command chorusing a _Hades-sama_ that still sounded off. It did not feel wrong nor right. He could even relate to it more clearly now.

 _Alone_. From that day on, he only heard his namesake from their - _his_ \- enemies’ lips. He did not complain, as from onwards he was delivering salvation to all as efficiently as he could provide them with.

That day, however, was not the last time he wondered about his fate.

The city he had spent his childhood at burnt in blacks and reds. Rubble lined its streets, blood painted its walls and paths. Destruction was gruesome and chaotic, leaving a deep unshakeable impression was a must. He excelled at it.

It was the last day Pandora held golden locks of hair, as midnight black ones replaced them upon his return.

She stopped placing narcissuses in his rooms afterwards. Unprompted, She commented they stopped growing in the fields around, just as everything else. 

Everything but Cerberus. Anyone else but Pandora, the lingering presence of the twin gods, and the one hundred and eight stars that shined below him.

For he was their god. Alone was Hades.

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He would never admit amazement because humankind never amazed him, if not the contrary.

Some millennia ago, when their population grew and petty skirmish escalated to war then conquest campaigns. Men started to take from each other thinking it brought them eternal glory; some even thought it would buy them a cosy afterlife. Around that time, be it by their volition or whispered by gods of old, they developed what first was means to survival, later means to live and prosper. One of the latter was drawing then writing.

Men started to record life, their lives mostly. Of their times, of their rulers. Hades sometimes wondered if they took inspiration in the book of the Underworld, that one that recorded their individual lives, the time of their souls spent alive, infused into flesh and bones. 

Not that it held any importance. What actually did was the way they twisted such records. A prime example was the aforementioned. Hades had to reincarnate. Hades had to use a human because he wanted to roam the Earth.

What gave them these notions if not themselves? Perhaps, it all started with Athena and their first full scale squabble. Astonished as he was, he stood there mouth slightly agape in a quiet scream. What felt like an arrow protruding from his chest, but on closer inspection was in fact an arm, fist past broken armor, lodged in his flesh. 

Perhaps it all came upon the tears of blood that stained his face back then when he felt his body mortally injured and all faded to black for a while. His last memories were of silver and gold feathers, a whisper barely a breath away from his skin.

He felt more than saw the devastation of Hypnos and Thanatos unleashed cosmos whilst they fled through the Path of Gods with his bloody body in arms.

They had talked about it, more times than he actually felt comfortable with, and concluded that their last sighing of his real for, in a bloodied way no less, made they assume his body gave up only for his soul to remain. Much alike their goddess. Likewise Athena’s demise.

Humans had such little understanding of the whole affair it was laughable, it would have been if only it was not his godly body at stake; his existence, and the existence of the Underworld as it stood to this day.

Hades mused it was understandable that way, made it easier for Athena to manage the whole outcome. Made them wait for her just over two centuries, whilst her soul got cleansed within the Elysion and a new body was made for her taking. Yet, nobody took the time to explain his bloody tears.

Even today, humans depicted his coming with images of a winged death bringer, tears of blood dripping on stoic masked face. Yet, no one stopped to wonder over the blood, the tears.

The whispered words no one but him heard and no one could ever commit to memory.

Words that eluded him for millennia to come. Warped in the flapping of wing of silver and gold, and the dripping sound of blood on soil he stepped upon with his own body for the last time since then.

Word spoken between two souls, forever lost to time.

One soul cycled through dead and rebirth, blank and unrepentant. The other passed from original body to mortal vessel, era after era unfaltering.

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_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering why the narcissus, credit goes to Wikipedia this time. I was debating on how to insert a link between the Hades of 200 years before SS:TLC and the one in this era. The obvious thing to do was adding ᾍδης” written in the dirt (like in cliché murder scenes LoL), since it was established he knew Greek, but it would not be the case for most villagers and the likes. But that twist started to complicate things instead of helping the plotline, so narcissuses happened. 
> 
> Wiki saved the day by providing the right imagery to finally unable a subtle way to link Alone, Hades taking over his body, and the Cathedral in the woods without telling out right the priest knew something no one else knew at that point in time. I like leaving it as an open interpretation, ambiguous events are a must here. Afterward, the unnamed priest just took the chapter by assault and you have the result above. I have given this way too much thought...
> 
> Anyway, I have a draft for the second part but if it stretches too much, it might extend to a third chapter. Pieces are still missing there so no promises.
> 
> Title inspired by the song "God be You" by Nostalghia. You can check the lyrics here: https://genius.com/Nostalghia-god-be-you-lyrics.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted to experience some more, even if in the end Athena as well as others were bound to meddle with his appearance in the world of the living. He supposed one war after the other helped cement a certain way to judge things beforehand. He was no stranger to it.

**Part II** _  
_

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He had been sitting on his throne for some time now. Affairs of his realm running smoothly, he took on a more comfortable position, face resting on his open palm and eyelids closed. His half-slumber disturbed by a space-time distortion close by, behind the drapes at his back.

Here at his Inferno residence in _Judecca_ , his throne was the last thing standing before the steps leading to the _Wailing Wall_. Only gods were able to open and use the Hyperdimension, the Path of the Gods. Well, them and Pandora, whom he had granted access to the Elysion.

The necklace had been more a proof of good will than gracious gift. A test. Still he could count with the fingers the number of times she had willingly made the trip over to the Elysion, unprompted. He never asked why, it never bothered him, as it was not something he actively looked for.

However, he figured it had something to do with the overbearing presence of the twin gods. His temple was located at the top of the hill of his own little sanctuary, their own just below his. At arm’s reach. He sometimes wondered _whose_ reach, exactly.

Now was not one of those though, she was out of _Judecca_ at the time, which left only two other options of visitors. Hypnos or Thanatos. Alternatively, both. He repressed a sigh he had not noticed holding in the first place.

 _The Wailing Wall_.

Hypnos' image was engraved on it, as well as his brother Thanatos'. Two sides of the same coin, they came to be together, eternal sleep and death. They presented themselves to him once, back when the Inferno was the barren land of _Tartarus_. The land he was recently appointed king to. A blank canvas to paint, a field of clay to mould at his whim.

It was some time after they joined him; he had come to know them, each of the three inhabitants familiar with their daily routines. Well, Hades would rather say that whichever routine they both had before living in his lands, they adapted it to his. It was true, at first. Later on, even his got adjusted. Their presence becoming steady, robust even. They as much whispered counsel as discussed opinions with him. They suggested aiding on his endeavours, becoming his advisors. He agreed. All was fine.

As time went by, their recommendations improved the overall layout of the Inferno. It did not become _livelier_ per se, but the touches of colour -reds mostly- and weather variations across his lands did come in handy, he supposed. However, nothing could be done about the _Acheron,_ for it remained without mirroring on its surface _._ He made it clear to them once; no effort should ever be spent on changing it. They never brought it up again.

As such, he was not surprised when both of them came one day and waited for their king to pause his slumber and acknowledge their thoughtfulness.

It all started with Hypnos pointing out there should not be an opened gate from the _Meikai_ to a dimension where only gods’ souls and a few chosen ones could reside. The latter were too far in between to make any impact whatsoever, but it warranted notice when most –all of them- were Olympians _protégés_. “Hades-sama, the Elysion should be secured. It is the place of your temple, the true sign of your lordship.”

“It is most necessary now, that some gods have expressed some-” Thanatos’s eyes locked on Hypnos’s then his. “- _concerns_ , towards your governing of humans’ souls.” Seldom did the god of Death measured his words in such a way. Hades knew the word he meant was _dislike._ They could not openly disapprove, but distaste was a personal assessment. Yet, it spoke volumes of the issue at hand if even Thanatos censored himself that much on his behalf.

“You want to put a lock.” It was no question. His azure green eyes glanced at them, he silently pondered on the topic at hand. What they asked of him was unheard of, to this day. Since he gained the rule over the _Meikai_ only the path of the gods separated mortal’ souls from deities’. The formers had no chance to cross over unless blessed by a god or risk obliteration. As such, it had not been an issue in… it had _never_ been an issue.

Now however, centuries had gone by since he parted ways with his brothers. He was aware of the whispered pleas and anxious prayers made by mortals to the other gods, to Zeus himself. Until then, none had swayed the favour of the Olympians. _So far_ , he reminded himself.

The thought lingered on his mind. Who could tell where most of his kin’s hearts lay nowadays? He was the eldest of the lot, the first of their line. Yet, he also was also the longest one and latest to survive their father. He had known distrust before trust, _darkness_ before light, and _death_ before life. He also knew the weight of words. How much they could twist the fate of immortals, even.

The twin gods had kept silent so far, waiting for his decision. Hades’ domain was his to shape, to control for as long as he had been there. By now the Inferno was as much his as it was a part of him. That thought alone was as comforting as it was _terrific_. No one should ever step in it or meddle with it without his prior acknowledgment. Even if he blanketed it into deeper darkness, it was worth it. Even if a proof of good will were all it took to fortify it, he would allow it.

“We are confident it will be beneficial to you, Hades-sama. Shall you allow it; both my brother and I can take this worry off your shoulders.” As per usual, by then Hypnos’s words were perfectly reasonable. Against such proposal, there was little room for refusal.

He nodded in agreement, both advisors thanking him for his foresight and trust.

Some time and tremendous amounts of cosmos involvement later, the entry to the path of the gods was effectively sealed off from all. The winged abstraction of his lordship encased by their one-winged profiles. An allegory to their quite literal presence by his side, now engraved into stone.

His skin tingled in discomfort, fingers short of jolting. Hades eyelids closed for just a moment longer than usual. They were standing before the wall. It was done.

“Hades-sama, the Elysion is now secured.” This time it was Thanatos’ voice reaching him. He sounded satisfied, proud even. Hades angled his face to look at him, azure eyes impassive. He nodded in acknowledgement; the god of Death grinned in return, right palm over his chest as he bowed to him. 

As the gesture registered his mind, Hades felt more than saw a knot stretching within his ribcage. He could never attest of it, for he knew it was a mere sensation. It lingered for some time though. He pushed it at the back of his mind, along the mounting amount of repressed and unwelcome feelings.

He had done so more times than he could keep count, furthermore so since the twins were by his side. Pandora has been a novelty at some point. However, she too kept adding her own to the pile.

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It came as a ray of light breaking through dark clouds, the flicker of a memory long buried. Purposefully overlooked. The feeling of an unescapable _cage_ , of which he was the first inhabitant.

Back then, he had no time to feel the warmth of his mother’s breast, ripped off her only to end at the pit of his father’s stomach. There was no way to measure time, only his senses allowed him to cultivate sentience. The consciousness he developed was based on the evidences that lingered in this void-like darkness, except it was not void at all. The splattered remains of flesh and bones further enhanced by the now and then new arrivals were the milestones in an otherwise purposeless existence.

Some did not make it further from a single breath before they perished, others moaned in pain for an undisclosed amount of time. He had yet to develop the concept of time as a dimension for reality. Some felt too short and others too long, the sounds of their agony the sole proof of existence before they faded into silence and darkness. What took time to vanish was their bodies, and for that time, golden dust lingered by.

One time, a broken form landed close enough that his plum coloured cosmos reached forwards, offered just the right amount of light to lock eyes on _it_. The mangled form laid there, deformed enough that he instantly knew it would not be long that the only sound to accompany him would be the flesh falling apart. The eyes _it_ bore, however, asked what the mouth could not. Hades’ cosmos resonated with the one emanating from the body. He attempted _fixing_ it.

Bones snapped together, flesh reattached itself, struggling to. However, he soon noticed that the further the form took shape, the further its cosmos drained. Until an ethereal form replaced it. Soon the translucent shape glistened in golden hues, and upon touch, he sucked in a part. Perplexed, he knew not what to do with this new development.

It left a shudder down his spine, the brush of warmth against his skin. The promise of more, only to leave as it came and the mouldy cold of the endless pit he was stuck in was all that remained. It was then he acknowledged loneliness.

It kept on until the day on which Poseidon arrived. It explained most of their, mostly, nowadays respectful relationship. His youngest brother spoke of the glimpse of the universe he had seen before ending down there, and that the same universe inhabited them in turn. That it was most likely the reason he could reach to him and find him in the abyss that was their father’s stomach.

Hades felt something akin to what he would later identify as curiosity. Something that followed up to that fleeting warmth he experienced before Poseidon. Their cosmos felt different yet attuned to each other. They attempted reaching out; testing the expanse of the void of the endless pit, they were stuck in, to no avail. It disturbed Poseidon more than it did him. Hades realized he was _used_ _to_ these surroundings, albeit he would like to see and experience what was away from this cave, _this cage_.

Moreover, he noticed Poseidon throwing glances in his direction, as he yet again expanded his own cosmos. It was a shade he had not seen before, a blue-ish tone that felt strangely calm and raging at the same time. He later associated it with the oceans. However, he did not attempt making his resonating with his brother’s, a sentiment of unease sitting at the bottom of his stomach. He was used to be alone, in timeless, space-less darkness. His skin felt so much less tight when he took some paces away from Poseidon and closed his eyes.

Some time after, a sizzling light came down. Their cosmos reacted to each other identifying them as kin. _Zeus_ , as they soon came to know him, shined in blinding white gold. Poseidon commented his cosmos was strong, closer to their father and yet such a striking contrast. Unlike Hades’ or his own. It allowed him to survive the fall unscathed.

Less patient than Poseidon and his luminescence allowing more room to assess their situation, the youngest soon unveiled the truth behind their predicament. They had to find a way out of this pit and overthrow their father if they wanted a chance at survival. _Life_ awaited outside.

Poseidon seconded him immediately; they both awaited his delayed confirmation. Hades noted that the latest arrival looked at him in a similar way that Poseidon did, even if with more openly. He wondered if there was something different about him, he kept his wandering mind to himself until the day -concept he had finally grasped- before their revolt. He voiced it to Zeus, sitting by his side. He endured his light by expanding his cosmos to dim their surroundings.

“So attuned, so stron-“ Zeus paused, as if attempting to rephrase. “There is nothing different; it must be because you have lived here for so long. Surprisingly so, Hades. No, fortunately so I must say.” His fingers clasped on his forearm, it felt warm yet so foreign and strange. “For together we will be free.” The contact was short lived though, as Zeus stood up and signalled he did the same. The time was reap.

In the end they fought their way out, made a stand against _Chronos_. Sealed him within a timeless nothingness comparable to their own. Afterwards, the fate of the Earth was in their hands. He ended up with the _Meikai_.

He remembered the look on Poseidon’s face, half-apological half-concerned, a stark contrast to Zeus’ who shined so bright he squinted his eyes for the first time in ever. If his brother noticed, he did little to regulate his cosmos from expanding so brightly. 

“So fortunate, brother. The _Under_ world is so fearsome yet so calm, _nothing_ will disturb you there.” Zeus grinned at him as his fingers clasped on his forearm anew, it felt familiar yet so imposing.

His skin tingled in discomfort, muscles rippling beneath his skin. If Zeus noticed he commented nothing on it, save for repeating it was fate, and the length of the straws, that decided upon the realms they would now reign over. 

Nevertheless, Hades accepted the lands of the departed as his dominion and left shortly after. Sometimes Hades wondered if _precaution_ and the amount of time spent basking in light also played a part in _his_ deceit.

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How wrong of Sasha. This _Saori_ in the future. _Athena_. How wrong of _them_ all.

He had heard the question before. An old one many mortals have pondered for ages long gone. Some gods did too but they tended to keep their inner thoughts well-guarded against unwanted invasion. However, it had never fully hit Hades how unbelievably boggling a question it was.

It was not _a_ question, but _the_ question. In addition, the more Hades thought about it, the less sense it made to him. He had to let it go, not occupy his every passing days with such thoughts.

To this day, nobody really knew _what_ was forgotten. They just knew the memory diluted enough until only the sensation of his chest hurting, blood gushing out of his mouth remained. The taste remained ricocheting on the walls of his mind. After all, it was his last time on the land of the living, in his own flesh.

Nevertheless, it helped keeping a clear head, the right mind to rule the Meikai. It helped not to wander aimlessly much alike souls did if unattended upon their arrival from the _Yomotsu Hills_. It never occurred to him that the loss of bits of that particular memory had less to do with his own hands and more with the meddling of _others_.

Hypnos and Thanatos figured something was off because they wanted the same Hades as usual, and could not accept the changes. Their allegiance became controlling his every move, _obsessed_ with the idea of him.

However, what the mind did not recall the soul continued on searching. He had a glimpse of it 500 years ago. He had a taste of it 250 years later. He was _living through_ it this time, through Alone.

Until it was no more. He had barely recognised what transpired, what _could_ _be,_ before it too was cut short.

“Tell me Pandora, was it you who hide Behemoth in my shadow?” his voice sounded foreign even to himself. Alone was still a strong presence, his soul refusing to abandon the reins of this body. Hades managed to imprint himself on his flesh, he matured his body and darkened the hair to attest enough of it that most did not notice the farce of Alone’s attempt to annihilate everything and everyone on the basis of despair alone.

The scent of the narcissus aided as much as it signalled the end of the _dream of_ _dying_ , and be back to the nightmare of living. It was truth in many other ways than just Alone realizing his ultimate fate, and the fact there were no way to reverse it.

“Yes, I was just _worried_.” Pandora replied apological. What a strange word to use, he thought. Like she cared more than their pact laid basis to. “She was to watch over you. I… I mean…”(1) she struggled with her words; as of late, it seemed doubts plagued the ones surrounding him. He remained silent afterwards, the air between them heavy with feelings unvoiced. Alone too kept silent, thoughtful.

The issue might not have been him going to the Sanctuary; neither was it facing the Pegasus, or Athena. ‘Why did you go _on your own_?’ was the unasked question. Back at the Forest Cathedral, he heard the barely held whispers, felt the doubtful glances. Pandora herself seemed troubled, she did not phantom heading towards the crossroad she was reaching. There was doubt in his mind that _she was_.

The twins finally made their move to fix the plan drafted long before Alone came to be. They had pulled on the anchor he designed for this era. The _everlasting salvation_ (2)  was in fact his own _lost canvas_. The painting Alone faced, mirrored himself into. It was _he_ , as much as it was a part of _him_. Perhaps, Alone was the only one to truly notice they mirrored each other yet never quite recognised themselves.

A mortal faced with the despair of his true nature, yet with enough insight to read between the lines. Only now did he realize that time had changed things, changed _them_. The joke was on him, on them all. Chronos’ stomach would rumble at that. He did not remind enough of his face to know what his knowing smile would look like.

“Hades-sama, there is unrest within the Specters. Pandora, she has taken upon what is yours.” _Bennu_ Kagaho reported worried; visibly upset himself by the latest events. Pandora mobilizing the Underworld troops without his consent. It showed her fluctuating heart, but more so, it revealed her lack of strength to stand up to the twins. Their whispers were now demands, commands that were once his, but were no longer as of this day.

“Pandora!” He dismissed _Bennu_ before summoning Pandora to his studio. Hypnos was lingering close by; the twins had been keeping mindful distance, Thanatos guarding his body and Hypnos keeping the Meikai in order. It did little to deter them from ruffling Pandora. Thanatos had never had issue openly speaking of his dislike towards her, for the mere fact that she was mortal. Hypnos however had a way with words, always had, always will. He preferred meddling with her mind.

Hades’ soul gone missing upon crossing to earth through her mortal mother marked her deeply, in more ways than even the twin gods could ever predict. The fact that Athena’s recipient turned out to be his youngest sister only aggravated her further. The god of Sleep saw it, used it. When she crossed the threshold of his studio, he knew they had played on her answer to _the_ question.

He saw more than heard her unspoken apology, she longed for the Hades she thought she knew. The twins longed for the undisputable king of the Underworld they were so familiar with, and the destiny they had traced ahead of him. The one no one spoke of, yet she knew so well as mortal (3).

He confirmed it when she stared at his work, claimed he was poisoned by Alone’s memories. Hades smiled, Alone did too for different reasons altogether, yet they agreed it was _unavoidable_. _Him_ and _he_ were one and the same, the king of the Underworld.

To both however, it changed little. The crown was a new form of fate. A golden cage devoid of light and sound.

It seemed the length of straws, and the amount of time spent in the light did play a part in the unfolding of this chapter of his immortal existence after all.

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Within the confines of the pocket dimension under Hypnos’s care, Hades painted undisturbed. Each layering of cosmos enhanced paint robbed a life, the veil of the underworld expanding on the land of the living. Alone took genuine pleasure in poking within his buried memories, as far as fishing out snippets of his earliest days. They were much alike these, senseless. He took the brush as well, and continued painting.

His newfound predicament gave him time to reflect. Pandora, her once genuine concern for him, for what he stood for, had morphed. She had taken a genuine liking to interpret his wishes, decided upon what was better even. He had once given her command over his Specters. Now, she let her heart dictate what had to be done. She made him revive them, it tore apart Alone, introduced an idea of wrongness he had yet to name. Hades wondered if that was what he experienced back at the beginning, when he touched the lingering soul of his much fleeting, unnamed, sibling. 

As of late however, fear clouded Pandora’s judgment, and made Hypnos and Thanatos impose themselves on her command over the battlefield. Her heart infected by feelings. Human feelings. A heart beat within her flesh and bones. An unrequited feeling, a complicated one.

A _love_ she directed towards him, her _god_.

For she knew her lord would never bat an eye in her direction. Not the way she slowly but surely had built the want to. She had known since their first meeting, before that even. Alas, she did not know that sometimes even Hades wondered on _what ifs_ , although he did not act on them. Ever had.

Eternal life was such a long existence to live. Time was enough to indulge on useless musing. Nevertheless, why did it seem that everyone _knew_ him and his ideals better than he did?

It explained some of his actions, mostly though it explained what made him of, his stance and beliefs. After a little over a dozen Holy wars, the twins had started to acquire a general disgust over humans. It now spanned over simple indifference, not unlike a human to a bug, to full out hate and the wish for total annihilation.

Gods lived in different realities, of time and space that only recently humans had begun to conceive. They still could not grasp its meaning, much less understand its implications. However, some individuals be it for their beliefs or worst, their actions, had more than once affronted the gods of Sleep and Death.

Like that time, just the way before this one. Athena had the galls to lure him onto Sanctuary grounds and seal his soul away. Well, that what she thought. Nevertheless, the twins were so enraged, understandably so, that they made an appearance on the battleground and decimated her army right out. She knew there was nothing else to do but watch the lives of her followers flee their bodies in a single final breath.

Hades knew only a god could kill another of their kin. Humans had to recover on their own, had to keep on Earth without her guidance. That foolishness of hers. It ended with the twins taking it upon themselves to sign her life off.

It had to be that way. Only gods could _save_ themselves and remain untainted to enter Elysium, by killing one in the name of another. Alone knew it now, it remained to be seen if it put him at risk. Yet, humans still fought the status-quo by rising against the gods. They demanded justice, fought for it and the future lying ahead.

Sometimes Hades wondered which one of them, Athena or he were the _liars_.

Pandora once knew. That is why she joined him. That is why he took her in, granted her power most humans would never achieve. Perhaps even greater power lesser simpler gods could ever. Perhaps that is why the twins had not been too happy to rely on her and antagonized so much over who stood closer to _him_ , their king.

Perhaps he had never truly voiced what was the case, because there was no need to. He was Hades, the one and only ruler of the land of the departed. There was only one Meikai, as there was only one god who _owned_ it. Crafted and ruled it. _Loved_ it.

For it was as much part of him, as his soul, and it had as much a purpose as it had sense in itself. His own existence.

However, centuries, millennia into their spat, Athena still hard pressed her sense of what was right and what was wrong. Of what was just and unjust. What had the right to be and not to. Why would he even have to condemn livings within his lands? Why would he even have to oblige on making exceptions on humans whereabouts in the afterlife? Why on the name of the immortal existence they shared, would he even consider having humans stand on equal grounds with gods? Why, why indeed, would the afterlife be _wrong_ at all?

Now, millennia had passed, and somehow she managed to pollute even his Underworld strongest beliefs. Pandora, the first human he had allowed standing by his side. She now stood in front of him, apological, distressed, and utterly confused at her conflicting heart.

The twins pressured into freeing his soul, had rushed his latest host, _he_ , Alone, into delivering a new ending to humankind. They did not wait to ensure what _he_ , Hades, wanted. Only thought about what they were certain their knowledge of their lord, they had. Bitterly he thought, they did what Pandora did, they _assumed_.

To this day, he wondered idly at that, about the _why_. Even if deep, deep, down he knew.

He was Hades. The one and only god the Underworld.

As nothing else could possibly encompass the universe, he was as unique as necessary. Unavoidable.

The twins, they could understand, relate even. However, they could never ever live it, be it. _Be_ _him_.

“What about you trying to _be_? Something else, _someone else_?” The voice was gentle, above a whisper. It reminded him of a bird in a cage. Souls of the departed in the Inferno, condemned before they stepped in his lands. However, the voice was devoid of fear, of violence and despair. It was genuinely inquiring, it belonged to that little boy, _Alone_ ’s.

It was strange, his voice had manifested in the _Meikai_ , right at the border of path of the gods, at the summit of the Sanctuary Hill when his soul was ripped off his host. Long before his flesh came to be. Long before, he was born into the world of humans. It sent his thoughts flying back to the beginning, the first war and before that. Back in the dark oblivion of Chronos’ stomach.

“Next time, let us try something different.” Athena said then, in the previous war, whilst closing her eyes before the twins. Her human body exhaling her last breath. Hypnos recalled she had smiled, minutely so. It was a calm one. He said so when he recounted the event. Worlds apart from the one Thanatos sported when her soul finally vacated her flesh and he guided it to the Elysion.

The god of Death’s fingers had twitched with the want of _crushing_ it for the sake of it. By now, he knew it would not be more than a thought. “Hades-sama, your benevolence alone saved her soul.” Thanatos described how he watched in wicked satisfaction as her mortal body disintegrated in the confine of the Hyperdimension once her godly soul vacated her mortal body.

He had acquired an unsettling fascination to observe her mortal remains, first perish and then dissolve through space and time. A couple of those were the way human flesh usually did. Those were the one he liked and disliked the most. It took so long he could observe it leisurely. However, it also reminded Thanatos that it was still a human corpse.

The fact Athena chose to shackle herself down to human flesh... Honestly, Hades could never come to terms with that.

Through Alone, Hades felt he knew what there was to know about humans, about Athena. A god would never be indebted to a human, never would acknowledge it. However, he was true to his word, even if everybody seemed adamant to prove otherwise. He wanted to see how far Alone would go, how far they could go before the unavoidable end came.

The boy was supposed to embrace his fate, brave it even. He was taught there was wisdom in suffering. Now he would pass that on. Hades branded by a human soul. It gave him yet another piece to answer _the_ never spoken _question_.

He was content with that, and Hades would too if ever asked if he did not enjoy the nuances in each of their reincarnations. But no one ever asked, and he never clarified. Thanatos had once suggested it. “Hades-sama perhaps giving them back their past memories would help us end this war quicker.” They were into Elysion, his body remained asleep. It was after a young, innocent and memory less, Pandora incarnation broke their seal.

They wanted to expand his realm on earth. Wanted to widen the cage around their one and only lord of the Underworld.

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"From the eyes of a god, humans may seem hopeless. Nevertheless, they have love. Because of love, humans can become compassionate, strong too. You do not have the right to kill if you do not know love." Her words strung a cord deep down the recess of his mind. Something that was forced under a veil.

All of a sudden, he did not know if he should be affronted as his face expressed, or perhaps be true to himself and chose to show the hurt her words revived. He was not supposed to care. Except he did. Except _he cared so much_ that he could not afford to do it anymore.

There was a reason he did not fancy reviving his Specters, albeit he had the power to.

There was a reason the Sapuris came to be. A reason he did not pass judgment on the souls they _chose to shelter_.

He did not hold it to them their reasons to join his ranks, stay by his side, or leave him. In the end, they all had to. Be it by their own volition, or as the unpleasant outcome of failure in the Holy Wars.

There also was a reason Hypnos and Thanatos sought him, and they kept by his side. He did not ask it of them, their interaction frigidly polite at first, soon turned to amiable connivance. However, he unknowingly allowed them to strengthen their own pedestal of him. 

It caged him, up to this day. Now, he could only be _their_ Hades, in all his godly splendour. And that in itself might be wrong in so many levels he failed to grasp or acknowledge even. It continued to pile up at the bottom of his soul. _Heart_ was too much of a mortal word to describe it.

Nevertheless, she had no right to pass judgement on his ways. One too many times the unconscious wishes at the root of his self were the path to discovery and sentience. They were his own, just as he was their god. In the end, was there any wrongness to him?

He remembered clearly now, the time spent at the shade of the trees, dew covered grass against his clothes, morning sunrays filtering through. Neither the warmth nor the light hurt, the knot on his chest did not linger. Touching them and getting touched in return did not warrant hesitant glances in any of the parties involved. His flesh basked in the flow of time, changing, evolving just as seasons did. Word were weightless, his skin felt right and the unknown less daunting.

If he touched his chest with his palm, he knew it would stop.

Cerberus always attuned to his moods. It was ironic know that he and one _Bennu_ Kagaho had understood more than they knew. Alone however, that boy had opened a door in the cage they shared. All that was required then was to enact _deceit.  
_

All was right this flesh was his, he was Hades.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a few (way too many) rewrites, I think it has to do with the unplanned length. In the end, I resisted the urge to split it, so I hope it is not too inconvenient to read. Truth is I had a draft from the first chapter, but it somewhat did no longer restricted to a Hades POV, and required a third persona approach, which is not the way I wrote this so far. That also explains, the recount of some of the events intertwined here that would actually make more sense from the ones involved (like the twins for example). So far this piece in the Series has too strong of an impression from Hades, and Alone as some parts, that including thoughts from others would make no sense whatsoever. 
> 
> However, I do apologize if the whole entry is still confusing, similarly to _Won't you pain me (?)_ , this piece in the series continues to explores Hades’ sense of self in an attempt at non-linear construct. Let's say it always bugged me that the twins had so much control over Hades and his realm (I think it speaks a lot of their relationship), and that he allowed it. Honestly, I would have loved to turn them into the bad guys just for fun of it, but I think it is more sensible to leave it open to interpretation. Anyway, remember the title of this series :) and if you are interested, I recommend a good read to the poem _"The Human Abstract"_ by William Blake (one of my favourites and source for inspiration I must confess). 
> 
> Also, kudos to AO3 for allowing superscript formatting, it helps placing some -irrelevant- notes, like the ones below. (Hope I did not miss or misplaced any).  
> (1) That dialogue is from SS:TLC chapter 47.  
> (2) The painting that unlocks Hades’ possession over Alone at the Forest Cathedral.  
> (3) Reference to Thanatos and Hypnos playing with her love for Hades and her ideal of him SS:TLC chapter 55.  
> Finally, in care anyone wonders, I am leaving the gods' sisters out of this, as it would likely lengthen some explanations that are not required here. I might come back on that and add them later on just for the sake of continuity.


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